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Among the many amazing things that can be said about the late Dr. John, deceased on Thursday, is that his real name, Malcolm John "Mac" Rebennack, was even colder than his pseudonym. Rebennack is one of the most talented American instrumentalists of the rock'n'roll era and one of the most talented musicians to have ever emerged from the city of New Orleans, and he would certainly prefer that we insist on it.
Dr. John was born on November 20, 1941, a fact he may or may not have been aware of most recently – in his 1994 memoir, the incredible (literally and figuratively) Under a hoodoo moonhe declares with confidence that he was born in 1940. The second paragraph of this book opens stating that "My maternal grandfather, who has been singing and sabotaging for a while for the show Al G Fields Minstrel Show of Mobile, Alabama, was the one who first transmitted me the music in an unpleasant way, "an exhilarating statement in his poetry (transmitted the music to me in a negative way) and invigorating in its history. In 1994, many white musicians may have tended to downplay the fact that their grandfather was a blackface performer, but Dr. John acknowledged the indescribable nature of this abominable but crucial chapter of the popular musical past of America, as well as the importance of never denying what you came for. It's a sentence that, in a nutshell, tells you almost everything you need to know about its author.
His parents were both passionate about music, with voracious and indiscriminate tastes. To his knowledge, young Mac Rebennack started skipping classes to hang out outside New Orleans around the age of 10. As a pianist, Rebennack began his musical career as a guitarist, a brilliant career. He first learned the instrument by playing with Lightnin 'Hopkins and T-Bone Walker's discs (classic beginner material!) Before going under the tutelage of Papoose Nelson, Fats Domino's guitarist. After paying his contributions as an actor and session player, Rebennack released his first solo recording, the guitar and sax instrument "Storm Warning", in 1959.
I've been playing the piano for over 30 years and these videos do a lot me want to leave.
"Storm Warning" was not a success, but if it was the only disc ever made by Mac Rebennack, it would still become a legend in the kind of cult circles that would have inevitably dug this record. This sounds like Link Wray's "Rumble" and Bo Diddley's "Who Do You Love?" Thrown together in a gray-gray bag, a rhythmic tidal wave laden with tremolos. In my ears, there are five instruments on the record: guitar, baritone saxophone, piano, bass and drums, but there could be just as many. (Rebennack noticed that when he worked with Phil Spector in the mid-1960s, he could get his famous "Wall of Sound" just as easily by recording with only six New Orleans musicians.)
A few years after "Storm Warning", Rebennack was shot in the finger, which seriously hindered him. In a counterintuitive way, Rebennack decided to refocus on the piano. In no time, he turned into one of the leading representatives of a pianistic tradition in New Orleans including Jelly Roll Morton, Professor Longhair and the incomparable James Booker, another prodigy of less than two years older than Rebennack.
Rebennack first became Dr. John on the 1968 album Gris-gris, a daring mix of New Orleans' psychedelia and R & B, probably the most ambitious and best-ever album ever made. It's a very original work that is truly steeped in magic and traditional stories: a "soundtrack of colonial collisions," as Charles Hughes put it in a terrific essay commemorating 50 years of the album.th birthday last year. At a time when many rock artists climbed the heights of more and more grandiose and pretentious in search of the most terrifying phenomenon, Gris-gris was a record of roots that managed to surpass them all. The album was not recorded, but it quickly became an underground favorite.
In the 1970s, Dr. John had become a star. He was in the Top 10 in 1973 with "Right Place, Wrong Time", recorded with the Meters and produced by Allen Toussaint. (The album on which he appeared, In the right place, has become the best selling record of his career.) His voice, soft but discreet, could be heard regularly on radio and television. He played with the Rolling Stones, Neil Diamond, Carly Simon, Van Morrison and just about any other mainstream audience that he wanted. In 1976, during the group's famous concert, The Last Waltz, he performed his magnificent composition "Such a Night". He even inspired another rock legend, Dr. Teeth, lead vocalist and keyboardist of Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem, who debuted on The muppet show in 1975.
All this time, Mac Rebennack remained relentlessly himself, even though he was suffering from a heroin addiction that had lasted for decades and would not be caught until the late 1980s. Long after the disappearance of his improbable rock celebrity, he remained a brilliant and tireless ambassador of his city and his musical tradition. In popular culture, he came to function more as a kind of broad and easy incarnation of the "New" authentic Orleans, rather than as a human being and a singular artist.st century, almost all casual music fans know who Dr. John is, but a much smaller number could probably name more than one or two. But if it was a position that he never felt, he never endured it with anything but spirit and grace.
In such moments, it is always useful to take a minute or two to appreciate the true art of the artist. In the case of Dr. John's, this is an exceptionally straightforward opportunity to do so. Several years ago, Dr. John recorded a series of educational videos titled Dr. John Teaches New Orleans Piano both of which are unintentionally hilarious and totally breathtaking. Dr. John begins each segment with a friendly approach to one aspect of the New Orleans piano tradition before embarking on spectacular interpretations of standards such as "St. James Infirmary, "Irene Goodnight," and "Key to the Highway." Meanwhile, a camera is conveniently positioned directly above the keyboard so you can follow at home.
I can not think of a more effective way to convince a budding pianist to leave the instrument than to show him these videos. I've been playing the piano for over 30 years and these videos do a lot me want to leave. But I can not think of a better way to send Mac Rebennack than this video showing him "When the saints go for a walk" in this series of videos. In the classic New Orleans funeral style, he begins the song in a minor way, drawing darkly the words and melody, his fingers flaring to impossible dimensions to reach heart-rending chords full of watery eyes. Sturm und Drang. Then, after finally getting back to the top of the form, the Doctor suddenly pivots into the more usual, optimistic and uppercase rendition of the song. never witness with this degree of intimacy. His right hand is a dazzling showcase of trills, reels and races, but as with any great artist of the sleight of hand, if you pay too much attention to it, you will miss the real magic: his left hand, the real mark of manufactures of any great pianist of New Orleans. This left hand is all over, dancing throughout the lower register of the instrument, perfectly in time and never making a misstep. Looking at these hands, surprisingly close and personal, is like attending a miracle. Mac Rebennack never claimed to be a saint in life, but today he does the same.
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